The AntiAlice
by AnticonformingRebellion
Summary: The Queen of Hearts, kicked out of her thrown, has found a a way to get it back. An antiAlice, if you will.
1. Prologue

She was going to do it. This was her chance;

to defeat Alice.

She was fond the girl as a child, but now that she had slaughtered her Jabberwocky, ruined her kingdom, and had taken it all for herself, the ex-Queen of Hearts despised her. Selfish little brat, she thought, just like her younger sister, ruining and destroying all of her work and progress, her personal chaos storm. Why was she always the favorite? Why did she get all the attention? Oh, yes, of course, thinking to herself, she was the angel; the perfect, pure, deity child, while the real heir to the thrown was an ugly, red, monster.

Crimson hair and pure black eyes, while her skin kept the shade of cream, she was not beautiful to them, no, she was a fiend. No matter how much her handmaidens curled her hair, or applied color to her face, or dressed her in exquisite gowns, she was not beautiful, or even pretty.

She never would be.

Frightening everyone around her, servants would tremble in her presence, rumors about her brutally murdering pets and decapitating dolls began to flourish, and she was turning into an embarrassment and as her parents whispered, a mistake.

"Our daughter isn't liable for the thrown!" her father would try to utter as softly as he could,

"How can you say that? Do you actually believe those lies that have been spread by the public?" her mother fought back, barely keeping her pitch,

"There must be some truth in them! How would they get started in the first place?" he argued back,

"But Vivacia would never do such a thing!" her mother demanded,

…

"Would she?"

That was how most of their disputes had gone. They never stopped.

Her sister had received the crown, not her. She had been abandoned by her family.

She was going to get that crown.

And she didn't care what she had to do to get it.


	2. Day 1 of the AntiAlice Experiment

Day 1 of the AntiAlice Experiment 

"When will it be done?" she screeched viciously,

"'It' is a 'she'-" she cut the doctor off,

"Whatever! When will it be complete?" the ex-Queen crowed,

"72 hours your highness, but it might take an extra few to supply artificial memory-"

"How long will it take, Dr. Wickane?" she screamed once more,

"98 hours…" he replied, eyes focused on the floor beneath his feet.

The ex-Queen turned her back on the doctor, almost beginning to walk,

"Very well." then she strode off.

The doctor looked up, he was certain his head was to be neatly reaped off its hinges, but the Queen just walked off. _She must really want this clone,_ the doctor thought to himself. _I hope she knows what she's getting into…_


	3. Day 2 of the AntiAlice Experiment

Day 2 of the AntiAlice Experiment

The Queen stared at the large, glowing, cylinder in the corner of the room, in waiting. This was her usual activity of the day, watching it. It grew larger and larger each day, but no hair appeared on its head. The doctor was usually preparing serums for the new creation and checking on its heart rate and progress.

"Hair and eye color, your Majesty?" the doctor asked suddenly,

The Queen, was not startled and answered,

"Black hair, brown eyes" she stated simply,

"an exact opposite…" she mumbled under her breath, so the doctor couldn't hear.

"As you wish, your Majesty" came his automatic statement,

"I must be going now" she said, bloody locks whipping around her as she spun around,

"Yes, your Majesty." He said again.

And she left, red hair trailing just by her heels as she stomped up the tall staircase.

The doctor had to gather hair samples and pigment samples from both the parents of the baby. The parents were dead and embalmed, so the doctor could take samples without a problem. He just needed his scalpel and test tubes, then, he would be ready.

So the doctor walked went up an opposite staircase at the far side of the room, saying one last thing;

"I shall see you soon, my dear Javan," he was gone.

And the girl in the chamber dreamt;

She was sitting in her cushy chair, blinking eagerly at the bright flames that smiled back at her. She felt the warmth of the embers close to her face and could almost taste the magenta frosting.

"Go on now, make a wish!" her mother explained hurriedly,

She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to concentrate, thinking of a wish. Then, she sucked up some air, puffed up her cheeks, and blew out a gust of wind. The candles were out in a flash, followed by a wave of clapping.

With her cheeks rosy flushed and everyone around her smiling in joy,

she was happy.


	4. Day 3 of the AntiAlice Experiment

Day 3 of the AntiAlice experiment

"WHAT?" the mansion thundered with her ear-splitting cry,

"I'm s-s-sorry your h-h-h-Highness, we didn't mean t-"

"You didn't mean to? Do you think I care if you meant to or not?"

"Well…." The other card, an Eight of Spades, started,

"ANSWER IT!" she screamed,

"…m-maybe" the first card answered,

The Queen was startled, but not speechless,

"IDIOTS!" she paused for a breath, "OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!"

An axe appeared in her gloved hand, a ruby red one. She curled her fingers around it and raised it dramatically over her head, the cards, in fear, dropped to the floor instantaneously.

It hit the ground with a sharp thud.

The axe had sliced the Eight of Spades' head clean off its shoulders.

The other card; an Ace, a higher rank, was to his horror, saved for second. And being a card, he had the sharpest sense that he wasn't going to live this through as he saw the blood frying the frayed circuits escaping out of his partner's neck.

The Eight of Spades' eyes were agape for a brief moment, then closed instantly.

And the card, even as emotionless as he was, was scared.

The cards are somewhat of an android cyborg, half human and half machine, one of the Doctor Wickane's brilliant and cruelest creations. They had armor of metal that would provide a dose of steroids into their arms or legs whenever they wished, their limbs were all enhanced with mekka and tech, a kind of robotics that were used for explicit humanoid models ages ago, that were banned from use and reproduction. The card had much power, a lot, really.

But he was too horrified to realize it, as the blade came upon him;

And the Ace, was dead.


	5. Day 4 of the AntiAlice Experiment

Day 4 of the AntiAlice Experiment

"HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?" the Queen's voice had become more hoarse from her recent tantrum,

"I only went to gather pigment samples, I didn't mean to be gone so long for this to happen!-"the doctor was interrupted,

"But it DID happen! It's ruined! All of because of your foolishness!" she sobbed, fiery tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

She stomped to the corner in the room, where the colossal, cylinder, chamber sat, and stared at it, still weeping. Then she turned back to the doctor, milky, white, finger raised at the figure in the chamber, the girl.

The girl had lengthy tresses of blue hair; distinctively, cobalt blue, hair.

The color of her enemy's wear, so horrendous,

blue.

She despised the color.

"CUT IT OFF! CUT IT ALL OFF! NOW!" her voice was a painfully shrill hiss in the tension thick air,

"I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANY OF IT, DO YOU UNDERSTAND, WICKANE?"her voice breaking,

"Yes, your Majesty. Right away, your Majesty." He replied, quaking slightly.

She left in a blind rage, the feeling of anger was so strong, it appeared as if it could seep into the walls, as acid as vinegar.

So the doctor, razor in vibrating fingers, opened the back of the growing chamber, the neon liquid spewing from it, allowing him to grasp the azure mane, and slowly, severed the long wisps of blue. It now came up to her ears.

"I'm sorry, dear Javan" he murmured into her ear, eyes glassy with tears,

but the girl fared dreaming and the change went unnoticed.


	6. Day 5 of the AntiAlice Experiment

Day 5 of the AntiAlice Experiment

The doctor kept his hands behind him in a pleased manner, delightfully watching the growing chamber, along with the Queen, not as delighted as he, but content.

"She should be done in two more days," said the doctor, without peeling his eyes from the chamber,

"Good." stated the Queen plainly,

"Her eyes should be brown, or some shade of hazel, I've gathered," he explained,

The Queen's left eyebrow raised,

"No blue?"

The doctor smiled, "No. I was able to save her pigment cells."

It was the Queen's turn to smile,

"Good."

She walked away peacefully.


	7. Day 6 of the AntiAlice Experiment

Day 6 of the AntiAlice Experiment

"One more day…" the Queen mumbled to herself, staring at the chamber,

She turns around quaintly, hands placed behind her, tentacles of scarlet silhouetted her pale face.

"Prepare her dressage," was her demand to a fuchsia flamingo, "And tell The Smith to hurry up!"

The flamingo nodded and scurried off immediately.

"Wickane!" she screamed,

"Yes, your Majesty?" he replied at her side,

"Tomorrow, at midnight, you shall take her out of…-th-that thing, give her a dosage of sleep inducer, dress her, and put her in her room, do you understand?"

The doctor, ashamedly, blushed, instinctively looking down,

"Yes, your Majesty."

"Good," she stated, starting towards the stairs,

and she left.

The doctor ran a bony, white, hand through his slick, jet, hair. He was worried. She was growing up to be so beautiful. What if he intimidated her? What if she didn't even know him? What about her heart?

Her heart;

a heart that couldn't beat by itself,

a heart that ran on clockwork, a windup in her spine.

His dear Javan's heart, was not her own.


	8. Day 7 of the AntiAlice Experiment

Day 7 of the AntiAlice Experiment 

His heart was literally about to burst in his chest, he was so anxious. In just a few hours, his Javan would wake. He sighed, wondering, but he had created and formed the memories into her head, didn't he? And he didn't forget to include himself? The Queen had authorized him to insert himself into her memories as her scholar, thank goodness.

He, like the Queen, would gaze at the girl for hours, but unlike the Queen, who sat in waiting for her champion, he sat in waiting for her, just her. His perfect everything, was not just another piece of weaponry, to him, but she was the Queen's assassin, and he loathed himself for working for her in the first place, to craft _his_ Javan, his whole world, and put her into a dimension of empty promises and thorough lies, defying the memories _he _had drawn for her. It was sick.

But he had no other choice. Being chosen to work by the Queen was to either: accept or die in a hideous mess.

So the doctor, did what he was told, gingerly removing the girl from the chamber, trying to cover her body as soon as possible, in fear that she would wake up, frightened and demanding answers, that would put both them to death. Hurriedly, he snatched the anesthetic from its tray and with such a quiet apology, struck into the biggest vein he could find.

Suddenly, in remembrance, he groped for the cold, metallic, smoothness, on her back, the windup, turning it five times precisely. She wouldn't wake until the tranquilizer wore off, so sleeping was no problem.

He quickly paged the one of the handmaidens to come and dress her, as he carried her carefully up the tall staircase, going to the last room on the left; her room.

It was a fairly sized room, large enough for a teenage girl, the Queen had thought. The walls were a calm lavender, the floor; plush carpet. The bed was somewhat of a cot, but accentuated to look more than it was worth, with lush pillows and comforter. He sighed, looking down at the girl, her even breathing, sleeping peacefully in his arms, and placed her on the bed's surface.

Bending down his tall figure, he kissed her forehead, whispering;

"Good night, dear Javan. I await your wake in the morning."

And he was gone.


	9. Day 8 of the AntiAlice Experiment

Day 8 of the AntiAlice Experiment

The Queen was excited. The anticipation was killing her almost as much as the doctor, yet, she held her posture. She nibbled at her breakfast, making small conversation.

"Maid," the maid came over as expected,

"Yes, your Highness?"

"Is the girl ready yet?" she questioned with as much patience as she could handle,

"Quite almost, your Grace" the maid replied curtly,

"Good. Have her be down as soon as she is dressed, understood?"

"Yes, your Grace." And she bid the maid to her duty.

The Queen had invited the doctor to breakfast this morning, which would become ordinary routine for them, as the doctor posing as the girl's scholar. The doctor, quite pleased with this arrangement, sat wordlessly; fidgeting with his cuffs and glasses. She should be down any minute, appearing to her as normal as any other day.

A brilliant mop of blue emerges from a sea of white sheets, a pair of arms and hands also emerge, flexing upward. She does not bother to stifle her hearty yawn as her fists retreat back from their stretch to rub the sleep from her eyes. She is awake.

She swings her legs over the bedside with her nightgown brushing over her knees, she stands up. Cracking her knuckles, she drags herself to her dresser, taking both handles, and pulling them apart. There it is.

It's her normal wear dress, stylish and flexible, easy to battle in while looking her best. A knee length, red polka-dotted white dress, the bottom functioning as a tutu, with a red smock embroidered with black lace that tied in a bow at the back. She discarded her nightgown, shoving her head through the fancier dress. Then she picked up her matching stockings, which were white but had bigger red dots, and put her feet through them as well as her Mary Combations; a descendant and hybrid of army combat boots, steel toed of course, with Mary Janes, so they could easily be used for walking and running.

She zipped up her boots, tied the laces as tight as they would go, and skipped her way to her mirror. Looking at herself, she grinned childishly, seeing her bedhead that stood straight up. Quickly, she fixed her hair, clipping a polka-dotted bow in carefully. Feeling pleased with how she looked, she carried herself quaintly to her door.

The maid was waiting for her, just as every day, but today, she seemed a little bit more lively. Lively wasn't the right word, Javan decided, the maid seemed to be _anxious_.

Fidgeting with her skirts, eyes darting furiously.

"Mistress Javan, the Queen is waiting patiently for you to arrive for breakfast" the maid, Kathleen, addressed her, voice quivering subtly. Kathleen gestured to the door.

"Thank you, Kathleen."She smiled politely, following the servant down the spiral staircase. Her boots made comfy "thud" sounds as she trod.

The Queen was astonished as she heard the unfamiliar sound of the Mary Combations fleeting slightly on each stair. She looked up eagerly.

This is what she had been waiting for.

She was meeting her revenge.

Javan was smiling, but not brightly, it was the same civilized smile she had given Kathleen, the maid. She had been happy her mother had been interested in her enough to send someone to escort her to breakfast. Her mother was so kind, smiling a little bit wider as she thought this. Then, a peek of crimson came into view…

The grin on Javan's face touched her ears now.

"Good morning, Mother"


	10. Day 8 of the AntiAlice Experimentcont

The Queen was speechless, but sputtered out a: "good morning, dear", a phrase she thought she'd never hear herself say. Her eyes were wide as she looked upon her daughter.

_She looks like Nivanna._

_Oh dear Nivanna._

Her daughter's voice interrupts her thoughts:

"Good morning Mr. Wickane." She gives him a dashing grin.

The Queen's head abruptly turns to look at the Doctor, who is a peerlessly deep shade of red. Javan seems oblivious to his color. The Queen returns aimlessly to her food.

"Good morning, Mistress Javan" the Doctor says, not meeting her gaze.

Kathleen pulls out a chair for her, making a screeching, causing the Queen to flinch and look up from her breakfast. Immediately, Javan digs in hungrily, almost inhaling her eggs and bacon. Still looking up, the Queen attempts to create the first tidbit of conversation:

"Dear,"

"Hmm?"Javan is torn from her marmalade and toast, which has made itself a thin layer on her face. Her eyes are full of interest.

The Queen clears her throat awkwardly.

"You know what tomorrow is, don't you?"Her mother's voice sounds curious, as if she herself is not sure of what she is saying. She smiles a bright smile, but her eyes reveal uncertainty.

Javan's face gleams, she squeaks out; "Yes."

The Queen smiles, wholeheartedly this time.

"It's your birthday."


End file.
